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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267897">a second chance, of sorts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics'>fluffysfics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>postscripts [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, but kinda mostly hurt, dodgy TARDIS lore, mismatched relationship, the Master has a Bad Time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Barely escaping the Death Particle, the Master gets away in a TARDIS that brings him right back to Gallifrey. An earlier Gallifrey, though. Before it was destroyed. Before the Doctor even left. </p><p>There’s only one Time Lord he really doesn’t want to run into, and so naturally, that’s exactly who he finds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master (Dhawan), The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>postscripts [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a second chance, of sorts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>loosely based on a prompt from Valc0’s Doctor/Master prompt generator, which had ‘First Doctor’ ‘Dhawan Master’ ‘Gallifrey’ and a quote about love</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“All of you, in here, <em>now</em>!” </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master roars the command at his Cyber-Lords as soon as he can, but they’re slow, clunky- he’s jabbing at buttons on the console of the TARDIS he’s <em>very</em> glad he parked in here, frantic to get away. Three of his creations make it inside the ship before the Death Particle goes off, and he yanks the take-off lever, feeling a shockwave of mindless, terrifying destruction ripple through the console room even as they spin into the Time Vortex and the doors slam shut. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sparks fly; he feels the bomb’s destructive power linger in the air, making his hearts flutter and threaten to stop. The Cyberium still pulses in his veins, keeps him alive, but his Cyber-Lords aren’t so lucky. The three he’d gotten on board are helpless in the face of the Death Particle, crumpling to the floor, and staying there. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fuck!” He slams both fists onto the console, and it’s so hot that it burns his hands. This TARDIS isn’t going to last him long; they’d barely escaped the Death Particle’s blast, he needs to find himself a new ship before this one gives up and dies like his creations. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Where are you even taking me?” The Master grabs the info screen, spins it towards him- it comes off in his hands. The screen flickers and dies, and then more sparks burst out of it. Oh, this is just fucking unbelievable. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He hurls the screen across the room- more sparks- and slumps down to the floor. He feels weak, exhausted, utterly used up. The Doctor escaped. She humiliated him. She had him on his knees, <em>begging</em> for her to end them, and still she didn’t do it. She left some human to try and kill him instead. <em>Coward</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rage seethes through his blood like fire, and he vows that he’ll never give her a chance to shame him like that again. Next time they meet, she dies. He’ll kill her on sight. It’s what she deserves. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Oh, who is he kidding? The only thing stronger than the rage and pain is his love for her, twisted and aching but still squatting in his hearts, as sharp and black as volcanic glass. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His stolen TARDIS lands with a jolt that smashes his head back against the wall, and the Master’s ears ring with the impact of it. He staggers to his feet, almost trips over one of his Cyber-Lords as he makes his way to the door. He gives it a vicious kick- useless creatures didn’t even last him a day before the damned Doctor blew them up. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Never rely on anything else, when it came to her. That was what he was learning. He was the only thing she couldn’t bear to kill; anything else he threw at her would turn to dust in her bloody hands. Everything always came down to the two of them, in the end. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He shoves open the TARDIS door, blinking around at the room they’re in. It’s enormous, and pulsing softly with green light. There are strange, coral-like objects lining the walls, and with a jolt he realises what they are, <em>where</em> they are. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s in a TARDIS nursery, on Gallifrey. His stolen ship has brought him back to the exact moment of its creation. Like restoring factory settings on a phone, he thinks, and then curses the time he spent on Earth. Honestly, <em>that’s</em> the metaphor his brain goes for first? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Before the Master can berate himself any more, an alarm starts blaring. People shouldn’t be in here. He bolts for the door, and by the time several Time Lords with large guns burst into the room, he’s halfway down the corridor. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Once he’s secreted in an alcove, behind a statue of some diplomat whose name he doesn’t know, the Master allows himself a minute to rest and come up with a plan. He’ll leave the Citadel, go hide out in the fields for a few hours- maybe take a nap, he really is <em>exhausted</em>- and then he’ll come back, find one of the more developed TARDIS nurseries, and steal himself a brand new ship. A solid enough plan, considering the day he’s had. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Cyberium thrums in his blood, cold and unforgettable but mercifully <em>quiet</em> for now. He’ll have to do something about it, when he gets his new ship. Not something he’s going to think too hard about right now, in case it hears him. It would sooner kill him than let him trap it in a cage, and right now, it <em>can</em> kill him. Yeah. Not going to think about that. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master slips out of the Citadel through practised old routes, pleased to find that all his secret hiding places do exist in whatever time this is. Normally, he’d be able to tell the year by the smell of the air, but he’s a wreck; between the anger and the Cyberium and the throbbing ache in his head, he can’t tell <em>shit</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There’s a spot he knows he can rest, down by a big tree just off the edge of the old Oakdown estates. No one ever knew about that place except for him and the Doctor, and if that tree is there, it’ll be the perfect spot to gather his thoughts without being seen. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Every step hurts, and the walk down to the edge of his old family estate seems to take five times as long as it normally would. The Master grits his teeth and stares determinedly at the floor, not collapsing to his knees out of sheer force of will. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He reaches the right spot eventually; finds the tree there just as he’d hoped, and gratefully slumps down in a heap underneath a wide, arching root that curves above the ground. Rest. Sweet rest. He’s too tired to think about a single other thing now, and his eyes are already drifting shut. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It’s not a peaceful sleep. His dreams are cold and silver, claustrophobic, full of the humiliating sting of defeat. Before the nightmares can come to any conclusion, though- he wakes. Someone’s coming. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master blinks, sharp senses immediately on alert. He hears footsteps, and a faint, tuneless humming, heading directly for his hiding spot. Fuck. Clearly this secret place isn’t quite as secret as it was in his youth. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He tucks his hand into his pocket, reaching for his TCE, and leaps to his feet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A few metres away, a young Time Lord stops in his tracks, surprised. He’s not more than a hundred and fifty, with messy blond curls tumbling down his shoulders, and thoughtful brown eyes that are wide with shock at the sight of the dishevelled stranger now pointing a weapon at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta Sigma drops the books he was carrying, and immediately raises his open hands to shoulder height. The universal gesture of surrender. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master stares, and wonders just how bad his luck is, that he would escape the Doctor in a TARDIS that brings him right back to...the Doctor. The universe really does hate him, doesn’t it?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He lowers his weapon. The young Time Lord relaxes, and takes a not-very-cautious step forward. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Who <em>are</em> you, sir? I like your clothes. They’re a little burnt, though.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Speech feels utterly impossible. At this age, the Master knows that Theta is madly in love with Koschei. He knows that he returns the feelings. At this age, he would have done <em>anything</em> for the young man standing in front of him. All the old affection rises like a tide straight through him, so bittersweet that it brings tears to his eyes. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hello?” Theta steps forward again, reaches out a hand towards his arm. Stupid, that’s so stupid- the Master was <em>just</em> pointing a weapon at him, and he could very well do so again. Still, it takes all of his energy to flinch away instead of leaning into that hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You don’t want to know who I am,” the Master forces himself to say. He sits down with a bump on the nearest tree root, hard enough to jar his spine. Shock numbs the pain, though; besides, nothing could hurt worse than the situation he’s just been thrown into. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta crouches in front of him, and his eyes are full of sympathy. “I thought only two people in the universe knew about this hiding spot,” he says softly, deep in thought. “And I think they still do. There’s something about you... You’re not me- I’d feel it if you were, that’s what the books say. So- Koschei? Is that you?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master closes his eyes, tips his head back, but it’s no use- the tears spill freely at the sound of his old name. A gentle hand touches his cheek to wipe them away- he jumps, and then whimpers, pressing towards the hand. Theta has no idea what he’s done. Who he is. The affection he gives is so <em>innocent</em>; the Master has no right to take it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He takes it anyway, because his version of the Doctor will never, ever touch him like this again. This is his only chance to feel the warmth of the only person he’s ever loved. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, Koschei,” Theta murmurs. “Light of my life. The only one in my hearts. What happened to you, my love? How far in the future are you from?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re on your fourteenth body,” he says quietly. It’s not strictly true, given...well, given the revelations that led to the Doctor getting him on his knees, begging for death. But it’s close enough, and it conveys all of the important information. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fourteenth? That’s not poss-“ Theta breaks himself off with a soft laugh. “Ah, but anything’s possible, I suppose. Am I so indispensable to the Time Lords that they could not let me die?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“In a way.” The Master’s hearts ache. He doesn’t want to lie to Theta Sigma, but he has no choice. The young Time Lord can’t know the truth. Not about himself, not about the Master- any of it. It would shatter his hearts into a million pieces, if he knew everything. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And you, my dearest? You were always more careful than me. What is this, your third or fourth body?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Twentieth,” the Master says. He’s not even entirely sure about that number anymore. There’s a beat of silence. He still can’t bear to open his eyes, but he doesn’t need to, in order to know exactly the expression on Theta’s face. Shock; eyes open a little wider than usual, lips parted maybe a centimetre and a half. He knows every expression that could ever cross this young man’s face. He memorised them all in intimate detail, centuries ago, and they’re preserved in spun gold at the back of his mind. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Time Lords can’t get by without either of us, I suppose,” Theta says, regaining his composure eventually. He’s quiet for a minute longer, and the Master sits, and feels miserable regret creeping through his veins. “...Tell me what I’m like, in the future?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He forces himself to open his eyes. Theta is kneeling by his side, his young face bright and curious. He rests one hand on the Master’s knee, and smiles up at him, soft. There’s worry in the lines of his face. No one would ever notice that except his beloved Koschei, and it’s a skill that the Master still hasn’t lost after all this time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re-“ He shouldn’t say a word. He shouldn’t. But the details spill out of him, almost as easily as they used to in his youth. “You spent almost all your lives being a man, but- when I’m from, you switched. Finally. Took you long enough. <em>I</em> managed it before you. Same blonde hair, and your eyes are...hazel, I guess, and you’ve had just about every colour in the past, you’ve-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta’s eyes light up. “Have I been ginger?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Every colour except ginger,” the Master amends. That earns him a pout. “You’ve always been very keen on running. Every time. Ridiculous, how much of it you get up to. And...and- you travel with humans. From the planet Earth. There’s been lots of them, over the years.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta’s eyes go wide and round at that. Then, something seems to occur to him, and he frowns. “You’re saying <em>you</em>,” he says softly. “Not <em>we</em>, dearest. Surely you mean <em>we</em>? I can’t imagine myself being happy, travelling the stars without you by my side.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master casts his eyes downwards. He wonders if the Doctor <em>is</em> happy. It’s particularly obvious in her latest body; she brushes off her companions as often as possible, and her default expression, when she thinks no one is looking, is one that is so, so tired. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We go our separate ways. But never for long. Always find each other again. And I-“ He grits his teeth, and emotions bubble up in his chest, making him sick. Anger, shame, embarrassment- that cold, sharp love he can never shake off. He grips the tree root next to him until it groans, and a handful of bark comes away under his touch. Theta isn’t trying to hurt him, isn’t trying to extract anything from him, but those soft eyes and the concern in his voice seem to shred him like he’s nothing more than paper. “I never stopped loving you,” the Master says, and he stares at the red grass beneath them and can’t bear to say anything more. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Well, of <em>course</em>,” Theta says. “Separate ways or not, nothing could ever come between us.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master flinches, and a list of names comes to mind. Sarah Jane Smith, Rose Tyler, River Song. Countless more, too, he’s sure. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Koschei?” Theta’s hand reaches up to touch his face. “My dear...in your timeline, when was the last time I told you that I love you?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master shakes his head. He can’t tell Theta that he hasn’t heard those words since Gallifrey. They’ve said so many other things to each other over the years, but the Doctor has never said that they love him, not since they stole a TARDIS and ran away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh,” Theta says. He stands up, and panic seizes the Master’s hearts as he thinks the young man is about to walk away. He can’t let that happen. He needs to do something, or else this conversation is going to twist the entire course of their history. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He doesn’t walk away. He bends low over the Master, and kisses him, warm and soft and brief. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You taste like ash,” Theta says, and frowns again. “But that’s not the point. Koschei- I don’t think there’s a single thing in the universe that could stop me loving you.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The responsible thing to do would be to fix this, and leave. Now. But the Master finds that he can’t. He stares up at Theta, eyes wide with longing. It’s been <em>millennia</em> since anyone said anything like that to him, and his hearts ache for it. He wishes it was a different version of the Doctor, but the one he’s so desperately in love with could never be so casual with affection, he’s sure. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know, dearest, that you’d rather hear this from my future self. But if she can’t bear to say it to you, I shall. For whatever it’s worth to you... I love you very much. With both of my hearts, in their entirety. Always, Koschei. Always. Nothing could shake that, no matter what the future holds for us. Please, never forget that.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta’s hand cups the side of his face, and the Master closes his eyes, leans into it. He’s never wanted anything more than to hear those words. He’d give up every planet he’s ever ruled, apologise to the families of everyone he’s ever killed, just to hear <em>his</em> Doctor say that she still loved him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The ache in his hearts is no longer an ache. It’s pain, urgent and desperate, and he knows what he has to do. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master reaches up to touch Theta’s face, and the young Time Lord smiles, leans into the contact. This, he thinks, will be the first time that Theta is betrayed by the person he loves. It’s a good thing he won’t remember it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Look at me, love,” he says quietly, and Theta has no problem with obeying. His smile freezes as he’s met with eyes that seem to pulse and swirl, utterly hypnotic. There’s a beat, and then his hand slips from the Master’s face, hangs slack by his side. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Forget you ever saw me here,” the Master tells him. “You walked down here, and fell asleep in your usual hiding spot. You’ll wake up in a few hours. You’ll...you’ll be happy. You won’t remember seeing me. Now- sleep.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Theta’s eyes roll back in his head, and he slumps. The Master catches him, and arranges him gently under the curved tree root. He picks up the books that the younger Time Lord had dropped earlier, and sets them in a careful stack by his side. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He looks peaceful. Guilt stabs at the Master for betraying his trust, but- fuck, he had no choice. Theta had sealed his fate the moment he’d been perceptive enough to recognise his lover’s face after centuries of change. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Crouching down, the Master presses his lips to Theta’s forehead. It’s hideously sentimental, but no one’s watching. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I really thought I wanted to die, when you held the Death Particle in front of me. I thought at least I’d die with you. Least we’d be equal.” He shakes his head, brushes a curl away from Theta’s face. “Maybe I’ll give life a second chance.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He straightens up, and starts to pick his way back across the fields. Rest has helped his aching limbs, but the pain now in his hearts is just as bad, if not worse. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wonders if there was any truth in what Theta had said to him. <em>Always</em>. It’s such a long, heavy word. The Master knows that his love for the Doctor is unconditional. At this point, she’s done enough that he should hate her, and he does. But he loves her, too. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There’s no way that she could feel the same way, though. Surely. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And yet, she couldn’t kill him. She never could. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master sighs. Maybe when he sees her next, they can talk. His usual anger seems to have quieted in favour of bitter heartache, and now talking doesn’t seem quite so bad. Maybe he owes the Doctor a few apologies. She owes him some in return. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There’s every chance that the second they meet again, they’ll be at each other’s throats. The Master knows how their games work. But maybe, just maybe- things will be different this time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It hurts. It hurts more than anything, to <em>hope</em>, but Theta Sigma has instilled that emotion deep in his chest, and now it doesn’t seem to want to leave. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this really was just So Much Angst, I hope you enjoyed it! comments and kudos greatly appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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